Underneath Skins
by ginnysmonkey
Summary: The story of a group of teenagers trying to find love, acceptance, and happiness. Enter different characters perspectives in this dramatized high school AU. Trigger warnings: abuse, eating disorder, drug/alcohol abuse, gay bashing, and mental illness (will update if changed).
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1- MYKA

AN: So, this is my first time giving the WH13 gang a spin. I love high school/college AUs and got inspired by the format of the UK Skins (great show, by the way). Essentially, the chapters rotate point of views and the drama level is high. Updates will be sporadic and may take a while—for that I apologize. My goal is once a month.

Disclaimer: I do not own Warehouse 13 or any of its characters—if I did, the show would go on forever. I also do not own the title Skins, just borrowed it from the British show.

"Yo, Mykes!" Myka looked up from her book at the sound of Pete's voice, and not a moment too soon—based on how fast he was running at her, collision was imminent. Sure enough, when Pete attempted to stop he managed to knock into her and make her drop her books. On her foot.

"Pete," Myka hissed, pushing up the bridge of her glasses and bending down to pick up the books. Maybe if she picked them up fast enough, no one would notice? Noticing her friend dropping down beside her to help her in her task, Myka felt a little comforted that he at least seemed to feel bad. After making sure her texts were in her arms securely, Myka stood back up and turned to Pete. "So, what's up?"

"Hm?" Pete mumbled, something seeming to catch his attention down the hall.

"You were practically running down the hall. And you hate running when you're not playing football. So what's up?" Myka could not help it—her patience was wearing thin. It wasn't Pete's fault, but her now throbbing toes added to sleeping awfully last night and the possibility of a long shift at the store this afternoon wasn't leaving her in an exceptionally good mood. When Pete continued to stare at something, Myka turned her head to take a look, and immediately wished she hadn't. Or that she had, but was better at keeping a poker face because Damn. Who was that? "Pete, who's that?"

"I don't know—but I'm gonna find out. Make room for the Pete-meister!" He declared with a grin before walking off. Myka rolled her eyes at Pete being so Pete, but really she was kind of…jealous. That it was so easy for him to see a beautiful girl and just…do something about it. God, now Myka wasn't even articulate in her thoughts! This had to stop NOW. If Myka could just stop having these thoughts, then maybe she could finally get some sleep. Deciding that watching Pete's antics wouldn't do her any good, Myka closed her locker and went to first period early in hopes of reading some more of her book (_The Time Machine_, one of her personal favorites. Her dad used to read H.G. Wells to her as a kid, before he…well, back when he still seemed to like her. Now nothing she did was good enough.).

Myka had just sat down and was about to open her book when Claudia entered the room, practically just dropping herself into the seat next to her with a groan. "You alright there Claud?"

"Loud. Morning. Sleep. K thanks." Was the mumbled reply Myka received. Myka smirked at the younger girl before turning back to the words of Mr. Wells. She was so immersed in fact that she almost missed the soft, accented voice coming from the door.

"Is this Mr. Nielson's history class?"

Myka looked up to find the girl Pete had been ogling earlier standing in the doorway, books in hand. Trying to speak, but finding herself at a loss for words, Myka was only able to ground herself back into her reality when Mr. Nielson's gruff voice responded, "Yes it is. And you are?"

The girl looked relieved and gave him a small grin. "Helena Wells. I've just transferred."

"Right, well, Miss Wells, please go sit next to Mr. Lattimer. Mr.-oh for Gods sake Pete, PHONE AWAY!"

Myka watched the girl gracefully sit in the seat next to a reprimanded Pete, who looked like he had won the lottery. She knew he was probably doing one of his stupid imitations to try and impress the girl right about…now. Myka couldn't help her eye roll when she caught words such as "shaken not stirred" come out of his mouth. The transfer student seemed to hold the same opinion, as her attention moved on from Pete and onto…Myka. Oh god. Myka found herself unable to look away from the girl. Or, she was until a distinctly Mr. Nielson-like voice broke through her reverie. "Ms. Bering!"

"Sorry Mr. Nielson." Myka responded immediately, returning her eyes to the far less pleasurable sight of his eyebrows and feeling a blush cross her face.

Mr. Nielson sighed, but repeated the question. "I asked if you knew who the founder of modern dance was? It was in your reading this week."

Right, the reading. Myka went through her memory and was glad when she found the right page. Benefits of having an eidetic memory—AP US History played to her strengths. "Isadora Duncan. Died of strangulation, from her own scarf."

Mr. Nielson scowled at her, "Correct. Do _try_ to pay attention, though. Now, as I was saying…" Myka, try as she might not to, once again zoned out while Mr. Nielson spoke. She felt thoroughly chastised. See, this was not like her! Myka did well in school. She was smart. She was supposed to be able to do this. Not get distracted by dark eyes and long dark… _STOP_. God, now Myka was nagging herself. In her head. She needed to fix this. Myka spent the rest of the lesson dutifully copying down the notes Mr. Nielson put on the board and actively avoided turning her head towards her- Pete, she meant Pete.

When the bell rang for passing period, Myka allowed herself to loosen her tense shoulders just a tad. See, that wasn't so hard, was it? Myka couldn't help but chuckle when Claudia's head shot up at the noise in confusion. It was a wonder that Mr. Nielson hadn't written her up yet. Shoving her notebook into her bag, Myka immediately got up so she wouldn't be late to AP Language and Composition. She was nearly out the door when she heard Mr. Nielson call out, "Ms. Bering? A moment?"

Myka cringed internally, but turned back to face Mr. Nielson. Pete made an "oooooh" noise as he passed her on his way out, and she made a mental note to smack him upside the head later. "Yes sir?"

"I was just wondering, is everything alright? You seem…distracted lately." Was everything alright? Well: her dad hates her; her mom doesn't know what to do with her; her sister ignores her on the good days and mocks her on the bad; her best friends are a guy who is hardly ever sober, a girl who just barely turned thirteen, and the only openly gay kid in school; she can't seem to sleep recently because she keeps having these dreams; she keeps stressing because, what if she's not good enough to get into a school? What if she's just not good enough, in general? Oh, and now there's a new girl that she's already attracted to and fuck, she CANNOT be...she just can't.

"Everything's fine, Mr. Nielson. Was that all? I'm going to be late for English."

He frowned at her, his bushy eyebrows scrunching up. "Alright. See you tomorrow. Hopefully you might actually pay attention."

Myka tried to ignore the sting of his comment, and forced herself out the door, not really paying attention to where she was going. Which, in retrospect, she probably should have because that meant she ran straight into—

"Oh," Myka breathed out, green eyes meeting dark brown. She felt a blush spread across her face. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to run into you."

"Oh no matter," and holy hell, Myka just forgot how to breathe because, that accent paired with that wry smirk, "No harm no foul, yes? Although…you could make it up to me." Myka simply stared at the cheeky grin that now graced the girl's face and, shit what had the girl just implied.

"How so?" Myka asked, shifting her books in her arms so she could use one hand to push up her glasses.

"Well, it seems that I am lost and in need of assistance. Do you know where room 103 is?" And, God seemed to have it out for Myka today.

"You have AP English?" Myka questioned, hating the mixed feelings she felt. Because on the one hand, fuck this girl was in another one of her classes, and on the other hand, FUCK this girl was in another one of her classes.

"Well, it does seem that my mother country gives me an advantage in that area," the girl replied teasingly. "Would you be willing to show me where it is, as you seem familiar?"

"Yeah, I actually have that class next," Myka responded before hearing the warning bell go off. "Crap, we're late."

"Making an entrance is not something I would be afraid of darling." The girl replied charmingly.

Myka's eyes widened at the blatant teasing in the girl's voice. "Right, well we should go. Don't want to get in trouble on your first day, right?"

Myka thought she heard the girl murmur something along the lines of, "Oh no, wouldn't want that…" before she smiled again and replied, "Lead on then Miss Bering."

"Myka," Myka blurted out as she began to lead her new companion down the halls. "You can call me Myka." God, she sounded like an idiot.

"Right, well in that case, _you_ may call me Helena," the girl-Helena- responded with a smirk. And how was Myka supposed to respond to that? How could Helena be all charm and cool while she stayed in her perpetual "loserdom" (as Claudia had dubbed Myka one day)? Choosing to stay silent until they reached their classroom, Myka couldn't help but sneak side glances at Helena. She was completely, flawlessly, beautiful (albeit tired looking).

She was also completely, one hundred percent out of Myka's league. If, you know, Myka liked girls.

Which she didn't.

She didn't.

Right.

When they got to the classroom, Myka was floored when Helena opened the door with a smile and said, "After you, darling."

"Um, thanks," Myka responded, hoping her blush wasn't as obvious as she felt like it was (although something about Helena's smirk told her otherwise). Myka walked in and was immediately berated by her English teacher, Ms. Stanton, who looked sweet as pie but was more strict than any other teacher on campus.

"Why Ms. Bering, thank you for joining us. Why are you late for class?"

"That was my fault, I'm afraid," Myka heard Helena quickly chime in from the door frame. "I'm new and was woefully lost before Myka took pity on me."

Myka held her breath as she watched narrow her eyes as she contemplated Helena's excuse. "Right, please don't do it again Miss…?"

"Wells," Helena easily supplied.

"Right, well, Miss Bering, please take your seat. We were just about to do an essay practice…" And Myka tried valiantly to focus on the groans of her classmates and the prompts being handed out, but the wink Helena sent her on her way past Myka's seat was quickly able to take over her attention.

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Truth be told, Myka actively tried to avoid Helena for the rest of the day. Her life was complicated enough without the addition of a beautiful British girl. That being said, it was like Helena knew she was driving Myka crazy: when Myka went to the library during lunch, guess who was "checking out the facilities"? When Myka went to the bathroom during 5th period, guess who conveniently "needed the loo" as well? When Myka was waiting to talk to Pete before football practice, guess who was exiting from the classroom right next to his locker?

Myka had a mental disorder, and it was embodied in the form of Helena Wells. She was just, EVERYWHERE. And when she wasn't there? Well, Myka's mind supplied enough that it was almost like she was there.

Luckily, when Helena had run into Myka at Pete's locker she was in a rush, and so Myka barely got a, "Thank you for all of your help, Myka. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance. See you tomorrow, yes?" before she rushed out the school entrance. And thus, Myka had survived her first day of school with her newest distraction. The thing was, Myka couldn't have distractions. She needed to focus, get stuff right, and get the hell out of dodge.

When Myka saw Pete swinging around the corner of the hallway, she instinctively stood a little straighter. Upon seeing her, he immediately beamed and said, "Hey hey hey, what's up giiiiirl?"

Myka rolled her eyes, but smiled none-the-less. "Hey, I'm glad I caught you. I, um, need a favor."

"Sure. You're my bestie. Just let me know what you need. Gonna loosen the reins a bit? Alcohol? Drugs?"

"Pete," Myka hissed, looking around the deserted hallway before smacking him upside the head. "If your coach hears you, he'll kick you off the team!"

"Alright, alright!" Pete responded, raising his hands in surrender. "What do you need Mykes?"

"I…I was wondering if that friend you mentioned was still interested in…going on a date…with me?" Myka asked, blushing horribly. This was really the only solution she could think of to her current predicament. If she was dating a boy, there would be no time to think about anyone else, right? And Pete would never set her up with someone awful, so she might actually like the guy.

Myka started to regret her plan though when Pete's eyes nearly doubled in size and he put a hand on her forehead. "Well, you're not sick. Wow Mykes! What changed your mind? And yeah, you're gonna love him! He's a great guy. I'll give Sam your number tonight if that's okay, so you can arrange it yourselves."

"Yeah, you can give Sam my number," Myka responded, crossing her arms across her books and testing his name in her head. "And…I dunno. Guess I just thought I'd give it a try?"

"Awesome! You will not regret this. Welcome to the dark side Mykes," Pete cheered with a grin, before leaning in and mock whispering, "we've got cookies. Well, we had them, before I ate them all." He leaned back looking really pleased with himself. Myka knew that he had been trying to convince her to give Sam a chance for almost a year, so he must've been thinking about it for even longer. Myka couldn't help but feel bad for Sam though. He was probably not pleased to be forced into a date with Pete's less than hot friend.

"Right," Myka responded, before checking her watch. "Don't you have football practice?"

"Oh yeah! See you later Mykes!" Pete yelled as he ran back the way he came. Myka rolled her eyes again, before turning back towards the entrance that led towards her house, and the store. Really, she probably should have been on her way the minute school ended—most likely, her dad would have work waiting for her.

Lo and behold, after her fifteen-minute walk home the first words that greeted her when she walked in was, "Where have you been? I need someone to restock in the back." (Myka had long ago learned to not question why Tracy couldn't do it, or why she had to restock/re-shelve every day when there was very little traffic in the store. It was no use. Her dad would just grumble at her, and she would have to do it anyway.)

Myka nodded and attempted to give her dad a weak smile. "Sure, dad. Let me just go put my backpack upstairs." Her dad barely gave her acknowledgement, but Myka went and threw her stuff upstairs anyway.

The rest of Myka's afternoon was spent re-stocking books, reorganizing titles, and avoiding eye contact with her dad. It wasn't that Myka disliked her dad—no, in fact she loved him a lot and just wanted him to be proud of her. The issue was that she was fairly certain he wasn't. Myka was paying so much attention to her work that when her mom called downstairs for dinner, she jumped. She turned to her dad for permission and when he nodded she began to make her way upstairs. "Myka…" Her dad began, seemingly uncertain. Finally, he continued, "You're too skinny. Make sure you help your mother."

"Sure dad," Myka responded automatically, feeling the cut of his words even while she tried to let them roll off of her. Myka walked up the stairs and found her mom sitting at the table along with Tracy (when had she come in?).

Tracy frowned in Myka's general direction. "Is that what you wore today? Seriously?"

Myka turned to her mom and, desperate to not spend time with her family, said, "I actually have a lot of work to do tonight mom, and I just ate a little while ago. May I go to my room?"

Myka's mom frowned in response. "Oh Myka, I wish you would just eat with us. But fine, yes you may go to your room."

"Thanks," Myka replied quietly, already tuning out her sister's words and making her way down the short hallway to her bedroom. Her bedroom was small (rumor has it that it used to be a pantry), but it was hers and that was enough for her. Myka pulled on her fuzzy slippers, gave her stuffed animal a squeeze, and then dragged out her homework.

She had already finished most of the problems, but she wanted to make sure she got them done right. Redoing her reading always seemed redundant to her though—perks of having a photographic memory, she supposed.

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It was close to 10 when Myka finally shut her textbooks, satisfied with the progress she had made tonight. Now for some light reading, and then bed for (a hopefully dreamless) sleep. Myka pulled out _The Time Machine_ from her bag and was startled when a piece of paper fell out. Curious, Myka picked the paper of the ground, and couldn't help the smile that sprung to her face when she read it.

_I owe you. Glad to see you've got a good taste in literature. Helena_

Myka was so enamored with the note that she didn't feel her panic until about twenty minutes later, when she realized she was thinking about a girl _that way_, again. Quickly, Myka put the note in a box of her more personal possessions at the top of her dresser (she could not bring herself to throw it out, no matter what). Myka was so busy mentally berating herself for being so stupid, AGAIN, that she almost didn't notice it when her phone vibrated.

Picking up the device, Myka saw that it was an unknown number and hesitantly opened it. "Hello?"

"Hi, Myka? This is Sam, Pete's friend," came a kind, masculine voice. Right, Pete said he would give Sam her number!

"Right, hi Sam," Myka said, twiddling with a loose thread on her sweater.

"I know we don't really know each other but…I was hoping we could maybe change that? Would you like to go on a date with me?" Well, Sam was certainly direct, she'd give him that.

With thoughts momentarily turning to long silky hair and a beautiful accent, Myka knew what her decision would have to be. "That sounds great, Sam."

"Great! How about Friday at 7? We can meet up at the mall, if that's okay?"

"Sure," Myka found herself agreeing without even really paying attention, because she was suddenly struck by the panic that she was going on a _date_. With a boy. She had never gone on a date before.

"Awesome. I'll text you the details later, but I'm really excited you finally agreed to go out with me," Sam seemed to exhale all at once. "Oh, and Myka? Don't be late," he teased her. It was only then that Myka remembered that there was a Sam in her AP English class. Apparently, this Sam.

"Right," Myka responded with a strained smile she knew he couldn't see anyway.

"Goodnight Myka, sleep well."

"Goodnight Sam," She responded as the call ended. What the hell had she just agreed to?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2- PETE

AN: So, this is my first time giving the WH13 gang a spin. I love high school/college AUs and got inspired by the format of the UK Skins (great show, by the way). Essentially, the chapters rotate point of views and the drama level is high.

Disclaimer: I do not own Warehouse 13 or any of its characters—if I did, the show would go on forever. I also do not own the title Skins, just borrowed it from the British show.

"Pete, WAKE UP!" Pete snorted, opened his eyes, and immediately looked around his room at the intrusion, only to find the source at the door.

"Morning mom," Pete tried, smiling tiredly at her. God, what time had he gotten in last night? His mom just shook her head at his antics before looking around his room in confusion. "What?"

"I just don't know whether to be impressed or concerned that I can't see a single part of the floor in here."

"Impressed obviously!" Pete said, throwing his arms wide. The effect was only partially lost by him yawning part way through 'obviously.'

"Riiight. Well, I just wanted to make sure you get to school on time. I thought maybe I could drive you today."

"Okay…sure. That'd be cool. What's for breakfast?" Pete asked, rolling out of bed onto the pile of laundry next to his bed. Sniffing a shirt and finding it clean, Pete pulled it on over his head.

"Well, you'll have to get ready to find out, now won't you?" With the promise of breakfast downstairs, Pete got up and began searching for some pants, along with his stuff for school. After finding his backpack precariously slung over his lamp, Pete took the stairs down two at a time and could smell the deliciousness cooking already.

"Pancakes!" Pete practically yelled, pulling his mother into him for a kiss on the head while simultaneously pulling three onto a plate for himself. After successfully stuffing his mouth full, Pete turned to his mom with an open-mouthed grinned, "Fank oo ma."

Ignoring his mom's look of disgust, and numerous requests for him to close his mouth, Pete devoured his pancakes with gusto. Sooner than Pete would have liked, his mom was corralling him out the door and he had to make the tough decision between how many pancakes he could carry versus how much school work.

After getting in the car, Pete turned to his mom with a grin. "Thanks for breakfast mom, that was great. And hey hey hey, maybe we can do this ride thing more often? I mean, if you'd let me get a car then maybe I wouldn't nee-"

"Pete, I have to go out of town on business for a while." His mom spoke suddenly, eyes remaining fixed on the road.

"Business? What business? You're a teacher!" Pete said, his heart sinking into his stomach. Ever since his dad had died and his sister left for college, Pete just did not like it when his mom left home for "business."

"It won't be too long sweetie, couple of days maybe? I have to leave after I drop you off-"

"Oh so that's why you wanted to drop me off today," Pete mumbled, effectively silencing his mom. He just did not get it. What was so important that his mom had to go out of town?

"Pete, please, don't be like this."

"Don't be like what?" Pete snapped back, crossing his arms and looking out the window. He knew it was probably childish, but dammit, he loved his family. Why did they have to keep leaving him?

For the rest of the drive to school, Pete stubbornly refused to talk to his mom (which was a new one, for him. He was pretty sure he had never actually been that quiet in his life.). The minute they pulled up to school, Pete was out of the car, angrily shoving his arms through his backpack straps.

"Pete…please don't be upset. I will be back before you know it, alright?" Pete scowled, crossed his arms across his chest, and looked at his mom in disbelief. "Right, well…be good. I love you."

"Love you," Pete mumbled before turning towards the school entrance, his fists unconsciously clenching. Stomping up the stairs leading to the school's front doors, Pete was still internally conflicted. What was so important that his mom had to leave on such short notice?

Pete was still fuming when he got to the main hallway, and looking for a distraction, sought out someone to talk to—maybe Myka, or Steve. Luck must have been on Pete's side though, because he couldn't help but smile when he saw Amanda standing at her locker. He also couldn't help but let out a low whistle as he admired the view.

Walking up to her as confidently as he could, he leaned on the locker two down from hers and said with a smile, "Heyyyyy Amanda." Pete felt his lingering anger spike momentarily when she sighed, and seemed to roll her eyes, before turning to him.

"What do you want Lattimer?"

"Same thing I always want, Major," he replied, forcing a smile on his face and using the teasing nickname he gave her the moment he found out she was in JROTC. "A date. You, me, a wonderful film, some corn that's been popped and duds that have been milked."

"And I'm going to tell you again Pete- no. I've got to go, I have a project to work on."

Pete scowled and, not quite ready to give up on her, yelled after her retreating form, "I'm having a party at my house on Friday! Will you come?" Yeah, he spur of the moment decided to throw a party at his house, but what of it? It wasn't like his mom would be around to stop it. He watched Amanda hesitate at the corner of the hallway.

"I'll see you later Pete." She responded, before turning back around and going around the corner.

"I'm taking that as a yes!" He called after her, ignoring the slight sting of rejection he felt. Turning towards the rest of the hallway he yelled, "Party at Casa de Lattimer this Friday! Be there or be square!" He then began walking towards his first period, calling out to anyone who would listen to him (which, to be fair, was a majority of the school's population) about the party at his house.

Pete saw the pretty British girl from yesterday (she had told him to call her HG- cool, huh?) and decided that she needed a good 'ole American party to welcome her to their school. "Hey HG! Party at my house on Friday- you in?"

HG turned towards him and gave him a friendly smile. "As intriguing as that sounds Peter, I'm afraid I am otherwise obligated that evening."

It took Pete a second to realize that she was saying no. Damn, luck was not on his side today. "Okay, well you're missing out. And it's just plain Pete. Walk you to APUSH?"

HG frowned slightly at him. "I'm sorry- APUSH?"

"Yeah, you know, class? APUSH- AP US History?" Pete forgot sometimes that not everyone called everything the same that they did.

"Oh, that would be lovely, thanks." The two walked in silence towards Mr. Nielson's room for a while before HG spoke up again. "So, you and Myka are friends, correct?"

"Yeah, best friends! Have been since I moved here when we were kids," He responded immediately. Then, eying HG curiously, questioned, "Why?"

"Oh no reason. She was just a particularly kind guide to me yesterday, that's all," HG answered quickly with a short smile before gesturing towards the door. "Shall we?"

Pete frowned, because he was suddenly getting a vibe and he couldn't tell if it was good or bad. Shaking off the feeling, he followed the hot Brit (hey, she may have turned him down, but he wasn't blind) into the room towards his desk. He saw that Myka was in her seat already (of course) and gave her a thumbs up when she looked up and caught his eye. He was so stoked that she was finally giving his friend Sam a chance. (Not that he'd tell Myka, but Sam had been interested in her for a while. Myka was just kind of…reserved when it came to dating stuff. Come to think of it, Pete wasn't sure if Myka had ever gone out with a guy. She must've, right?) Myka seemed to sigh and returned to reading.

What was with girls sighing at him today?

Frowning, Pete turned towards the front of the room. Of course, he still managed to throw in a good few references here and there for HG's benefit ("I love the smell of napalm in the morning."). He tried to shake off his bad mood throughout the day, but it was pretty hard to do.

It got even worse when Pete's math teacher, Mr. Miller, asked for him to stay back after class. "What's up Mr. Miller?"

The old man sighed, rubbing his beard thoughtfully as he regarded Pete. (Pete heard a rumor once that Mr. Miller used to have a thing with the school nurse, Vanessa. Since, he hasn't been able to look at the old geezer in quite the same way.) "Pete, I just wanted to give you a heads up. I finished grading our last test. Yours was a fail grade." When Pete continued to stare blankly at , he sighed and continued, "With your current scores, your class grade is no longer a passing grade."

Pete felt like a ton of bricks hit him in the stomach. "I'm not passing?" Man, he knew he hadn't been doing well but that…well, he wasn't expecting that.

"Not right now, which is why I wanted to talk to you. I know that you're capable of doing this, and so I wanted to let you know now so that way you can…I don't know…study harder for the next test, and perhaps actually turn in your assignments."

"Right," Pete gulped, and nodded. "Right. I can do that."

"See to it that you do," Mr. Miller said with a cheery smile. "Have a good day!"

Pete was numb as he walked away from the classroom. No, that wasn't right. He was angry—mad at himself for having been so stupid. Because if Mr. Miller was letting Pete know, that meant that the grade would be posted soon, which would mean that his football coach would know soon. He forced himself to walk his usual route to the cafeteria, smile purposefully on his face. Slamming down into his seat at their normal table, Pete turned towards his friends and announced, "So, I'm having a party at my house this Friday. You all need to come!"

"Uh, Pass."

"Sorry bro."

"I can't Pete, I'm busy."

"Guuuuuuys," Pete whined, eyes flicking between Myka, Claudia, and Steve. "Please? My mom's out of town. It's gonna be a total rager."

"And that sounds like a totally appropriate place for a thirteen year old," Claudia sniped back, rubbing at her eyes tiredly. "But I'm still going to have to pass."

"Yeah, Pete, I'm sorry, but I can barely put up with these people during school hours," Steve answered, but not unkindly.

Pete turned expectantly towards Myka. "What?" She asked.

"Well? What's your excuse?" Pete questioned. When Myka mumbled something that Pete couldn't make out, he decided a bit of provoking was in order. "Pray tell Ophelia, what light through yonder window keeps thee from an EPIC party? If I were-"

"I have a date, okay?" Myka replied, fiercely crossing her arms and glaring at Pete like no other. See, he knew mixing up his Shakespeare works would rile her up. (Sometimes he wondered how he became friends with such a brain.)

"Now THAT," Pete practically yelled, snapping his fingers and grinning, "is an acceptable excuse for missing a Pete party."

Myka rolled her eyes, "Glad I have your permission."

"Yeah well, remind me to have a word with Sam or something alright?" Pete wasn't expecting the hit when it came. "OW! Lay of the violence, will ya?"

"I can take care of myself Pete!"

It was Pete's turn to roll his eyes. "This is what friends _do_, Mykes. Embrace it. Speaking of embracing, I was _this close _to getting British hottie, AKA HG, to come to my party."

Pete watched fascinated as Myka seemed to be lost for words. "…H…G?"

"Yeah. British. New. Hot as hell. She told me to call her HG," Pete nodded enthusiastically. "I mean, I've still got my sights set on Amanda, but a guy's got needs, you know?"

"Her name is…" Myka started, and then she was shaking her head and pushing away from the table. "I've got to go. I'll see you guys later."

Frowning, Pete watched Myka stalk away from the cafeteria. That sucked—it was a rare occurrence for her to even spend lunch with them, considering her devotion to the library. "Is she okay?" He heard Steve ask.

Turning back to his two remaining companions, he found Claudia fiddling with what Pete highly suspected was Steve's cell phone and Steve waiting for an answer in between bites of his scone. "As far as I know," Pete answered with a shrug, not really sure what was going on with Myka. She could be secretive sometimes. (Then again, they all could.)

"Okay…are you okay?" Steve changed his question.

Pete threw on a grin and opened his arms wide. "Why wouldn't I be okay? I'm throwing a party on Friday!"

"You're lying," Steve responded.

"No man, I really am throwing a party of Friday," Pete reiterated, perturbed that his half lie was still caught by the human lie detector, AKA Steve. It was time to blow this popsicle stand. "Oh man, is that the time? Gotta rush, but hey hey hey, if you guys change your minds about the party just let me know! Hasta la vista bebe."

Pete heard Steve call after him, but he ignored it and kept walking. Keeping a smile firmly on his face, he walked down the hall as confidently as he could, occasionally throwing out a "Party at my house Friday!" or movie quote. He could make himself be okay. Just had to survive the rest of the day and then he was home free until tomorrow morning. (Hell, his mom wasn't home. Was school really necessary tomorrow?)

Pete managed to keep up this mostly happy front for the rest of the day. Yeah, he was still bummed about his mom and math and stuff, but if he kept smiling, it didn't matter right? Football practice seemed to go by quickly—that's why Pete liked it. Football was straight forward. You ran, you got sacked, you threw, and that's all they wanted you to do. (Pete had been thinking of trying out for the wrestling team in the Spring, because on the off season he always seemed to have too much time to think.)

Practice ended at five, and so Pete was looking forward to the pizza he would order tonight and a movie marathon. No mom meant no homework for him. He took off his helmet the minute the whistle was blown, and high fived some of his teammates as he walked towards the locker room. He was stopped, however, by his coach calling out to him, "Lattimer! Come here for a sec!"

"Yeah Coach Dickinson?" Pete called back as he jogged towards his coach. (It had taken him a year to stop giggling everytime he said that name.) Pete was tired, Pete was hungry, and Pete just wanted the comfort of his couch.

"I got a heads up from your math teacher today," Dickinson said, arms crossed and face looking all kinds of serious. Pete gulped. Dickinson sighed. "Pete, c'mon kid, I know you're better than this. You can do better than this. You've just got to try, alright?"

Pete nodded while he couldn't help but wonder, what if he wasn't? What if he wasn't better than this? Instead, he forced a smile and responded, "Yeah, Mr. Miller gave me a heads up too. I'll study more for the next one."

Dickinson frowned but nodded. "See that you do Lattimer, because you've got potential. If you clean up your act, raise your GPA, keep your drug tests negative then you could be looking at team captain next year and maybe even some college scholarships. Alright?"

"Alright," Pete responded, because how else are you supposed to respond to that? Although happy at the prospect of making captain, he hadn't really thought that far into the future, you know? Pete was kind of a "live in the moment" kind of guy.

"Right, hit the showers kid!" Not waiting around to be told twice, or 'encouraged' some more, Pete gave a last smile to his coach and sprinted for the locker room. Free at last, free at last!

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Turns out, eating pizza and watching TV by himself wasn't as fun as Pete remembered. Yeah, it was still a million times better than doing homework, but it was kind of lonely. To make things more entertaining for himself, Pete grabbed a bottle of rum and decided to make a game of it. He didn't need to go to school tomorrow, did he? He put on a James Bond movie and waited expectantly. Hot girl? Drink. Gun? Drink. 007 reference? Drink.

By the time midnight rolled around, Pete had gotten through two Bond movies and three quarters of the rum bottle and maaaaan was he feeling it. He sloppily reached for his phone and his face scrunched in confusion as he stared at it. What was he going to do? Oh yeeeeah, during the last movie he saw this blonde and it totally looked like Amanda, so he was gonna tell her and and and, where was her contact? Blindly scrolling through the lists, he eventually found Amanda's name and pressed call.

"Hi this is Amanda's phone, please leave a message after the beep."

**BEEEEEEEEEEEEP**

"Heeeeey heeeey heeeey. There was a girl and, she wasn't as pretty as you I swear! But she looked like you and I was like, you know what this night needs, Amaaaaanda. Why don't you like me? I just…hey remember that time we went to the track meet together? That was fun right? Why won't you come to my party? I…" Pete paused when a particularly bright commercial played on the TV. "I just think you're awesome, Amanda and- **END OF MESSAGE.**"

Pete sighed and threw his phone down on the couch. It was no use—nothing good ever stayed with him anyway. Except for Myka. Stumbling upstairs, Pete cursed as his shoulder came into contact with the wall. Multiple times. He threw his shirt and pants on the ground and crawled into bed. (This had started happening so often that he kept a water bottle and Tylenol bottle in his nightstand. Just in case.)

Maybe tomorrow would be a better day.


End file.
